


the kids are alright

by sinistercacophony



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Child Acquisition, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Referenced Past Drug Use, angst kinda, happy ending tho i promise, idk man, its about grief??, referenced past gang activity, there's a funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 20:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistercacophony/pseuds/sinistercacophony
Summary: It’s nine a.m. on a Saturday when Yoo Youngjae’s life changes forever.It’s not like it’s the first time something life altering has occurred. His life changed in high school when he was peer pressured into joining a gang because he could do math (and maybe there wasn’t actually that much pressure). His life changed when got arrested for money laundering (or something? he still wasn’t entirely clear on his charges) four years later. His life changed when he was sentenced to a year and half in prison.His life changed when he met Daehyun.At nine in the the morning on a Saturday, a knock on the door changes his life again.





	the kids are alright

**Author's Note:**

> so this takes place in some weird world where everyone is korean but the cps exists bc i'm too lazy to do research on how this kind of thing works in the korean govt so like, don't look too hard alright? alright.

It’s nine a.m. on a Saturday when Yoo Youngjae’s life changes forever. 

It’s not like it’s the first time something life altering has occurred. His life changed in high school when he was peer pressured into joining a gang because he could do math (and maybe there wasn’t actually that much pressure). His life changed when he got arrested for money laundering (or something? he still wasn’t entirely clear on his charges) four years later. His life changed when he was sentenced to a year and half in prison. 

His life changed when he met Daehyun. 

At nine in the the morning on a Saturday, a knock on the door changes his life again. 

The knock is unobtrusive at first, barely loud enough to filter into the bedroom where Daehyun is curled up under the covers and Youngjae is—well, Youngjae is fucking freezing to death because Daehyun is a little thief. Youngjae ignores the knocking, instead opting to burrow his way into Daehyun’s blanket cave, wrapping a hand around Daehyun’s waist and burying his nose in his back. It’s a nice back. Youngjae wants to stay here forever.

Daehyun lets out a gentle murmur when the blanket is moved but otherwise doesn’t stir. He’s a much heavier sleeper than Youngjae is. Lucky him. 

Youngjae is just starting to drift off again when the knock comes back, firmer this time. He opens his eyes, glaring at Daehyun’s back in frustration. It’s too early to exist, really. Youngjae works the closing (and sometimes also the opening) shift at a bar and Daehyun is an overnight janitor at the local college. Their lives didn’t really start before mid afternoon the majority of the time. Youngjae should probably get the door anyway, but he’s still riding on the hope that whatever cult followers were trying to convert him will just go the fuck away. 

They don’t. The knocking starts up again and this time Daehyun lets out an unearthly groan and rolls over, pulling the blankets along with him. “Just get the fucking door, Jae.”

Fine. Youngjae rolls out of bed, barely landing on his feet, and searches the floor for a pair of pants. Answering the door in just a big t-shirt would probably make him look a little too much like a one night stand for his taste. 

Even as he stumbles out into the hallway and then through to the front room the knocking continues. It kind of makes Youngjae want to scream. He pulls open the front door roughly, partially out of anger that he’s up so fucking early but mostly because it sticks and getting it to open is a fight every single time. 

It’s bright outside, he registers. The birds are fucking singing or whatever. There is a woman in a crisp pantsuit holding a briefcase standing on his porch. That can’t be good. 

Youngjae is too tired to be nice. “Want do you want?” he says. 

The woman looks him up and down, like he’s something she needs to appraise. Youngjae doesn’t exactly look like a normal twenty-seven year old man. His hair is bright orange, for one thing, because Daehyun had thought it would look cute (it did). The facial piercings probably don’t do much to heighten her approval of him either, and when she finally meets his eyes she’s looking at him like he’s something she’s found stuck to her shoe. “Are you Yoo Youngjae?” she finally asks. 

Youngjae nods curtly. He’s getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, like everything is about to go drastically wrong. He hasn’t had strangers knocking on his door knowing his name since both he and Daehyun got off probation, and even back then it hadn’t usually meant anything particularly good. (One time a man had gone through every single drawer and cupboard in the house, methodically pulling out Daehyun and Youngjae’s lives and leaving them on display on his quest for something, anything, that he could use to take Daehyun away. He hadn’t found anything, and Daehyun’s probation had ended a week later. Youngjae hates the government.) 

The woman is still staring at him. She coughs awkwardly. Youngjae distantly realizes she wants a verbal response. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says. 

Her face is still neutral when she opens her mouth to speak next, but something about the look in her eyes intensifies his worry that he’s really not gonna like what comes out of her mouth next. 

He’s right. 

“My name is Kim Heeyeon, I’m a social worker. Your sister, Yoo Youngmi, was in a fatal car crash this past Monday. As her closest living relative, you’ve been given custody of her son, Choi Junhong. Following approval of course.” 

She pauses then, and looks at Youngjae for his response. Youngjae feels like the ground is falling out from underneath him. All he can muster is a single, “Oh.” 

Youngjae hasn’t—hadn’t, spoken to Youngmi in years. He’d still been in high school when she’d kicked him out of the shitty trailer they’d shared after their mom died. (Rightfully so, since in neighborhoods like theirs no one wanted to open up their homes to potential gang infestation. Youngjae had already started bringing over his ‘friends’ when they needed a place to hide from the cops.) Then had been the arrest, and prison. When he’d gotten out he’d been too busy trying to get his shit together—trying to get Daehyun’s shit together—to even think about trying to reconnect. He’d always thought to himself, later, when I’ve got my life together, when Daehyun and I make a living wage, when I don’t work at a bar anymore, when I’m an adult, no, more of an adult than this. And here he was, almost ten years after she’d kicked him out, after she’d told him not to come back until he was ready to grow up. 

Here he was, and she was dead. 

Youngjae distantly know’s he’s upset, but everything feels far away. Fuzzy around the edges, like a flashback scene in a movie. He’s not sure he’s even breathing. 

“Mr. Yoo?” 

Youngjae snaps back to himself with a shudder. Suddenly everything feels like too much, too real. The bright light of the sun feels surreal and wrong. The sun shouldn’t be shining when he gets news like this. He looks at Heeyeon and takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his lungs shudder and his heart aches. “You’d better come inside.”

He sits her at the table in the tiny fucking kitchen in their tiny one bedroom apartment and mindlessly starts to make coffee. It’s really more to give himself something to do, the traces of sleepiness from earlier have vanished. Instead they’ve been replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of caffeine will be able to budge. Youngjae methodically measures out the grounds and fills up the water cartridge. He tries not to think about death. It doesn’t really work. 

He’d only been sixteen when their mother had died. She’d just...collapsed at work one day. Fatigue, the doctor had said, she just needed rest. Two weeks later her heart stopped. 

She’d worked so hard for them. She tried to keep them out of trouble, keep them from being hungry or scared. Youngjae remembers that when he and Youngmi were very young, she never ate dinner with them. Sometimes, on days where Youngjae was particularly picky she would eat his leftovers - the crusts of sandwiches or that last carrot that he burst into tears to avoid - but rarely would she make herself dinner. Youngjae and Youngmi were too little to realize - to be accountable - but now Youngjae thinks that once he hit high school he should have done something. Gotten a job to help pay for rent, probably. But instead he had fucked around with gangs and smoked weed under the bleachers and gotten drunk and tagged electrical boxes.

She died trying to make Youngjae and Youngmi's lives better, and instead she'd ended up with an ungrateful ex-convict and yet another single mother.

He almost laughs at the irony.

He finally hits the start button on the coffee maker before turning around and leaning against the counter facing the woman.

"Am I even allowed to take custody of child?" he asks, after a pause. He's a blood relative and it’s not like the crime's he'd committed were particularly dangerous but it's probably not good to just hand children over to ex-convicts all the same.

Heeyeon is apparently of the same school of thought. "There's slightly more paperwork but yes, you are." She purses her lips, and Youngjae tries not to prickle at her judging eyes. "You were never convicted of any violent crimes and you've stayed out of trouble since your incarceration, so once all the paperwork's filled out there should be no problem handing him over to you."

Like the kid's an object, Youngjae thinks. Just another possession that needs to documented and relocated.

"CPS will need to conduct an inspection of the apartment to make sure it's suitable and there's nothing that could be of...concern."

Youngjae gives her a side glance, and then looks at the apartment around him. It's odd, looking at things through a stranger's eyes. He and Daehyun aren't particularly neat. Youngjae leaves their opened (and unopened) mail scattered across the sideboard under the window. In the windowsill there's a collection of wilting succulents that Daehyun frequently forgets to water and even more frequently knocks over when he gets too excited. The couch is covered in mismatched throw blankets and the coffee table is home to at least three half full cups of coffee that have been there for far longer than Youngjae really wants to contemplate. They don't have a TV, neither of them have the time or money for it. 

The kitchen is actually a disaster. Youngjae doesn't even want to think about it. Heeyeon had needed to delicately move a herd of cups and one of Daehyun's textbooks in order to set her briefcase down.

It's not really a place for a child, Youngjae thinks, but they could make it one - if they had to. (They have to.) It's only a one bedroom apartment but the couch is old and ratty. They could get a new one from Ikea—one that pulls out into a bed—and a screen to separate off the room. Probably other things. Children need lots of things, Youngjae thinks, clothes and toys and school books and food. College, eventually. Oh god. 

It’s a lot to take in at once but Youngjae idly realizes that he’s already committed. He and Daehyun aren’t destitute by any means. They can work in a third. 

Heeyeon is still waiting for him to reply to the CPS thing. He’s probably starting to annoy her with the long pauses. He doesn’t particularly care. 

“CPS visit is fine. We’d clean first, obviously. But that’d be okay.” 

“We?” She asks, confusion evident on her face. 

Daehyun, via some sixth sense, somehow manages to open their bedroom door at that very moment. Dramatic bitch. 

Daehyun’s hair is a mess - it’s been bleached so often that it holds it’s shape oddly. One side is flat from where he’d had it pressed up against the pillow and the other side is fluffed up like a dandelion. He’d managed to put a shirt on, at least, and he’s wearing a pair of pajama pants that match the ones Youngjae is wearing. The morning light glances across his sleep swollen eyes and illuminates the smooth tanned skin of his shoulders. It draws Youngjae’s eye to the tattoo on Daehyun’s wrist - to the long past scarred track marks scattered down his forearms. 

Youngjae thinks he looks beautiful. 

Heeyeon looks like she’s sucked on a lemon. 

A swell of protectiveness rises up inside of Youngjae, but he does his best to ignore it. He shouldn’t piss her off. That’s Daehyun’s job. “This is my partner, Jung Daehyun,” Youngjae introduces. He tries to sound cordial but he’s not sure he succeeds. The scars are seven years old. Daehyun still wears long sleeves whenever he goes out in public, but this is their home and Youngjae doesn’t appreciate her judgement. 

She’s still looking at Daehyun’s scars. Daehyun looks confused and uncomfortable and he makes a sleepy noise at Youngjae to communicate that fact. Youngjae tries to look reassuring but he’s not sure how well it goes over. Half of his mind is still kind of blank. 

He walks over to Daehyun and wraps an arm around his waist, leading him gently to the couch. 

“You’re gonna wanna be sitting down for this one.”

It doesn’t take long to explain and by the end of it Daehyun is wide awake. Part of Youngjae—the small insecure part of him that bubbles up when he’s alone—fears that this will be it. That Daehyun will decide that Youngjae isn’t worth it. That it’s too much effort to raise a kid, one that isn’t even his. That he’ll walk and Youngjae won’t even be able to grieve because he'll be too busy taking caring of his sister’s child.

But Daehyun doesn't look upset. He looks...concerned, but not upset. Not like he plans on leaving. Youngjae trusts Daehyun with all of his heart, but fear isn't necessarily logical.

When he mentions the CPS visit and the paperwork, Heeyeon speaks up again. This time she's addressing Daehyun.

"We'd need you to take a drug test," she says. "Preferably a blood test."

There's a shuttered look in Daehyun's eyes as he says, "I don't like needles."

He really doesn't. He'd nearly had a panic attack while getting his wrist tattooed and the only reason the Jongup had finished it was because he was a close friend and understood Daehyun's anxieties. Getting Daehyun shots every couple of years was a...process, to say the least.

The woman makes the face again—the one that says 'I've already decided what type of person you are and I'll never change that opinion'. It makes Youngjae want to punch her a little bit but he restrains himself. He's kind of lucky he didn't get hit with any assault charges to start.

"I'll see what I can do," she says, but her tone says she probably won't.

Daehyun wrinkles his nose but nods all the same. He seems a little off kilter from the whole thing but Youngjae can't blame him—Youngjae is too. He gently takes Daehyun's hands, presses his forehead up against Daehyun's, tries to sync their breathing.

He's sure Heeyeon is making a displeased face at this but he doesn't particularly care. He can be as gay as he wants in his own goddamn apartment.

Daehyun has always adored kids. He waves to them when they're in the same line at the grocery store and makes faces at them across the back of the booth when he sees them in restaurants. It's kind of adorable. Despite that he's always been afraid of interacting more closely— like he thinks an addiction from seven years ago could be contagious.

Daehyun pulls back and looks into Youngjae's eyes like he's searching for something. It seems like he finds it because he gives Youngjae a sharp nod before looking over at Heeyeon. "I'll do it," he tells her.

He looks back at Youngjae again and tightens his grip on Youngjae's hands.

"I'm with you. No matter what."

\--

Heeyeon gives them all the paperwork they'll need to fill out, as well as the places they'll need to call to schedule the CPS visit and the drug test. She also gives them the date and location of the funeral—where he'll be able to meet Junhong for the first time. It's close, barely a half hour’s drive away. Apparently neither Youngmi nor Youngjae had ever strayed too far from home.

Other than that, he's not allowed to see Junhong at all until all the paperwork is done. Youngjae supposes it's probably good that the government doesn't just dump eight-year-olds into the hands to former gang members and their ex-druggie boyfriends, but it leaves a bad taste in his mouth all the same.

Youngmi had died almost a week ago. The kid had already been in foster care that long, and he'd be there for another week or two at least. To an adult it wasn't long, but to a child it probably felt like forever.

There's not much Youngjae can do other than get his shit together as quickly as possible.

The first thing he does after Heeyeon leaves is drag Daehyun with him to the grocery store to buy black hair dye and dandruff shampoo. He's not going to a funeral looking like a carrot.

They also pick up a couple of grapefruits and some lube because domesticity is like that and Daehyun thinks it’s funny to wig out cashiers.

Everything still feels uncomfortably numb. The whole dyeing process goes by in a blur. Daehyun talks the whole time - about his job, his annoying boss, what restaurant he thinks they should check out. Youngjae barely speaks a word but the background noise helps him more than anything else can right now. Daehyun understands. He's good like that.

Youngjae lets Daehyun put the dye in his hair after he gets most of the color out with the dandruff shampoo. It’s probably more of a process than it needs to be. He could just slap the black hair dye on and call it good but Youngjae has always invested more time and effort into his hair than he really needed to.

In the shower Daehyun massages his head under the water. The black dye runs down his body in a way that feels almost ritualistic - like some part of him is washing away. He hasn't had black hair since he was sixteen.

He might be being a little bit overdramatic but it's whatever. He feels like he has the right to be kind of overdramatic right now.

Overall the whole thing takes two hours and afterwards Daehyun looks at him with surprise.

"You look...young," he says.

"Is that bad?" Youngjae asks. He works at a bar so he's not sure that looking much younger than he already does is necessarily a good thing.

"No, you look cute!" Daehyun smiles at him and ruffles his hair. Youngjae shoots him an unimpressed look but Daehyun is not deterred. "Not like, drastically younger - just early twenties instead of twenty seven."

Youngjae groans and presses his forehead into Daehyun’s chest. He misses the orange already.

"Babe, you look good." Daehyun seems to realize he's not super pleased with 'cute'.

"Your opinion doesn't count, you always say I look good," Youngjae mutters.

"That's because you do always look good." There's laughter in Daehyun's voice. His chest is warm and comforting. "I should know—I'm a professional."

Youngjae lets himself smile. Just a small one.

They end up on the bed, Daehyun up against the headboard with Youngjae face planted into the flat plane of his stomach. Daehyun gently runs his fingers through Youngjae's still damp hair. It's only three p.m. and Youngjae wants to sleep forever.

But he has work tonight, and so does Daehyun. And he has to fill out paperwork and make calls and—

Daehyun clearly feels him start to tense up again because the hand in his hair stills. "Hey, babe?" Daehyun says, his voice soft like he's afraid Youngjae will break.

Youngjae lets out a vague grunt of acknowledgement.

"You know it's okay to cry, right?" Daehyun sounds worried. Oops.

Youngjae nods dully. Logically he realizes that crying is not a sign of weakness and that it would probably be healthy to cry. Better now, in front of Daehyun who he trusts, than anywhere else.

Logic, unfortunately, doesn't mean much to Youngjae's fuzzy brain. The numbness feels all encompassing - like everything that’s happened today is fake and he'll wake up next to Daehyun any moment and everything will be normal.

Part of him is disgusted with that fact that his sister is dead and his first instinct was to dye his hair.

"I'll probably cry at some point," he tells Daehyun, "Just not right now. Right now everything is fuzzy."

Daehyun hums. His thumb is running up and down the shell of Youngjae's ear, clinking the piercings he has there gently against each other. "You should sleep then," he says, "I'll wake you up when it’s time for your shift."

Youngjae does.

\--

The day of the funeral is - it’s a lot.

That morning was the only day that worked with their schedule where Daehyun could get his blood drawn. It had been awful.

The nurse had given them nasty looks the entire time, first when she'd seen Daehyun's scars and again when Youngjae had held Daehyun's hand.

Then they'd had to insert the needle three separate times in order to get enough blood. Daehyun had started crying the second time. When Youngjae had started running his hand through Daehyun's hair and murmuring 'I love you's into it, the nurse had made such a disgusted face that Youngjae had to restrain himself from punching her in the face.

When they'd finally drawn enough blood she'd left the room muttering something under her breath about 'fucking druggies'. It made Daehyun flinch. Youngjae wished that people would just mind their own fucking business.

Once they'd gotten that over with Daehyun had been able to go back home and sit in front of the computer with a gallon of ice cream and Netflix.

And now Youngjae is sitting at the front of a church with his sister’s eight-year-old son by him, looking at her casket and trying not to fall the fuck apart.

Youngjae had never been particularly close with Youngmi. She was two years older than him, always big enough to bully him but never quite old enough to take care of him properly. She'd had to, of course. Mother had always left Youngjae in Youngmi's charge when she worked long hours, ever since Youngmi was old enough to dial 911 and their mother's phone number. She'd mostly left Youngjae to his own devices, making sure on occasion that he hadn't managed to kill himself somehow - but she'd never been his caretaker. Youngjae didn't particularly resent her for that. It wasn't her job.

When he'd fallen in with 'the wrong crowd' in middle school, she'd noticed but there wasn't much she could do about it. Youngjae had started smoking at age twelve and drinking at thirteen. By the time he'd hit high school he had a reputation as one of the kids who sat in the back of class and slept, if he showed up at all. Teachers had given up, for the most part.

Youngmi had just turned eighteen when their mother died, and she'd abruptly had to take up the mantle of adulthood. Youngjae didn't contribute. The gang had picked him up when they'd realized he was halfway decent at math - it was the only class he attended and he somehow seemed to be able to absorb the information via osmosis - and they had him keep their books for them. He also did other things - beat up people if he needed to - and he'd run drugs a couple times. Despite the amount of hard drugs that passed through the apartment he'd had enough sense to not get into anything stronger than weed.

When the cops raided the apartment he'd shared with four other guys after Youngmi had kicked him out, he'd confessed to the white collar crimes pretty immediately and had avoided being pinned with anything much worse. The judge had looked at him with pity - he'd been barely twenty - and given him a lighter sentence than he'd probably deserved.

Prison had been boring, mostly - an extended series of exercises in self-pity and flagellation - until he'd met Daehyun. Daehyun, who was broken and fucked up and never stopped shaking. Daehyun, who Youngjae looked at and thought _he's the brightest thing I've ever seen._ And Daehyun had looked back at him and thought the same, somehow. 

Youngjae regrets a lot of the things he's done, but he's not sure, if given the chance to relive his life knowing that every mistake, every illegal thing and stupid fuckup eventually led to Daehyun - he's not sure if he'd change much of anything up till that point.

But this - sitting at his sister’s funeral, barely holding back tears and surrounded by her friends and coworkers that he'd never even had the chance to meet (that probably hadn't even known he'd existed), sitting next to her son that'd he hadn't even know existed. This he regrets - this he would change.

Apparently Youngmi had been a nurse at one of the local hospitals. She'd been kind - caring.

(She hadn't entirely had her shit together, however - when Youngjae had asked about her belongings, her furniture and the trailer she'd still lived in after ten years, he'd been told that she was so deep in debt that her possessions would need to be auctioned off. She also hadn't had a will. Youngjae supposed it was for the best - there was nothing he and Daehyun could do with a bunch of extra furniture anyway.)

She had a lot of friends. Youngjae is slightly overwhelmed by it - they kept shooting him curious glances. Who is this strange man they'd never seen sitting in the front row next to Youngmi's son at her funeral?

Speaking of Junhong. At the start of the funeral, Heeyeon had led him up to Youngjae and gently introduced them. Junhong is tall for his age - he doesn’t look much like Youngmi at all, if Youngjae is being honest. That’s kind of comforting - Youngjae isn't sure how he would feel if Junhong was the spitting image of his dead sister.

Junhong's eyes were red-rimmed when he solemnly reached out to shake Youngjae's hand. He seemed shy, but Youngjae wasn't willing to make assumptions about his personality based on how he acts a funeral.

"I'm Youngjae," he'd said, "I'm going to take care of you from now on."

Junhong had nodded solemnly while chewing on one tiny finger. He seemed deeply unhappy. Youngjae didn't blame him really - he didn't expect the kid to love him at first sight or anything. He could be patient.

Youngjae is startled out of his thoughts as a hush falls over the room - he looks up from where he'd been contemplating his knuckles to see the priest taking his place at the podium next to the casket.

He starts speaking - some bible verse or something - and Youngjae stares back down at his hands. He'd never much seen the use for religion. He'd got himself into shit and he'd got himself out of it. There was also the whole 'filthy homosexual' thing. Youngjae wasn't interested in adding any more crises into his life, thank you very much.

After the priest things start moving pretty quickly; Youngmi's friends and coworkers say things about her - about her life. Youngjae doesn't really pay too much attention. He's kind of too busy trying to fend off anxiety. It's all he can do to keep his breathing regulated - his heart feels like it's about to pound out of his chest - it feels like maybe something in him is breaking.

He's going to have to go up to the podium and say something, _anything_. He's probably just going to have a panic attack.

He looks up. One of the organizers is gesturing frantically at him. Oh. It's time.

It's okay to cry, he reminds himself as he approaches the podium, just don't puke or something. That would be gross.

He doesn't puke. He barely remembers it at all actually. He starts sobbing about halfway through but he doesn't know what he says or how anyone reacted or even how he finished the whole thing.

When he comes back to himself he's seated on the edge of the stage. Someone had handed him a box of tissues. That was nice of them.

It's only when he hears a loud sniffle next to him that he realizes Junhong is seated next to him again. His feet dangle of the stage, just coming down to Youngjae's knees. Junhong's face is shiny with tears, there's snot dribbling from his nose, and he's drooling a little. Youngjae probably doesn't look much better. He pulls a tissue out of the box on his lap and holds it up to Junhong.

"Blow," he instructs. Junhong does.

Junhong is probably too old to need help blowing his nose, but he doesn't seem to mind Youngjae helping. Youngjae uses another tissue to clean the rest of his face, wiping the drool off his chin and the tears from under his eyes. He finds himself making vaguely comforting noises as he does so, and by the time he's finished Junhong seems to have mostly stopped crying. So Youngjae isn't completely horrible with children. Go him.

Heeyeon approaches them with a cautious look on her face. She watches them silently for a moment and then seems to decide something because her expression morphs into one of almost approval. 

"Junhong, It's time for us to go, " she says, crouching down to look Junhong in the eyes. Junhong looks at Youngjae and then back at her. He sticks his pointer finger in his mouth and nods slowly at her.

Youngjae reaches out to ruffle Junhong’s hair, "I'll see you later, kid. As soon as I can okay?"

Junhong nods again. Heeyeon lifts him off the stage and sets him gently on the ground before leading him away.

Youngjae should stay for the burial - should watch his sister get put in the ground. He shouldn't just leave in the middle of a funeral.

But. Youngjae's exhausted. He goes home.

\--

Youngjae is panicking. He's panicking a lot.

He and Daehyun are cleaning the apartment. Or rather - Youngjae is cleaning and Daehyun is laughing at him because Daehyun is a piece of shit. (Or Youngjae is just being ridiculous but Youngjae refuses to consider that option right now.)

Youngjae is sitting in the bottom of the shower scrubbing frantically at the mildew populating the grout with a toothbrush and some bleach. Daehyun is seated on the closed toilet lid providing 'helpful commentary'.

"Y'know, I don't think the CPS guys are gonna care if our shower is like, a regular level of clean for an apartment and not like, pristine."

"What if they think it's mold? What if it is mold? What if they see it and look at me and decide 'He can't even keep a shower clean, how's he supposed to take care of a child!'" Youngjae punctuates this statement with a dramatic yell, throwing himself onto the floor of the tub with an emphatic _thump_.

Daehyun laughs again. "That's not gonna happen, babe."

Youngjae lets out another shriek of frustration.

CPS is scheduled to visit at four. It's three thirty. Technically they'd finished cleaning the apartment yesterday, but Youngjae had woken up at ten a.m. in order to stress bake some poundcake, and stress rearrange their throw pillows, and stress clean the grout in their shower.

(Among other things. He'd also: drunk three cups of coffee, rearranged the fridge, washed the single spoon that was in the sink, organized all his hair care products, organized all of _Daehyun's_ makeup, and inspected every single surface in the apartment for dust. It's possible Daehyun’s laughter is maybe a little justified.)

Youngjae isn't great with waiting. He always feels like he's doing something wrong if he's not doing _something_.

Daehyun apparently decides that he's done with Youngjae working himself into a frenzy because he abruptly stands up. "Okay babe, out of the bathtub, come here."

He holds his hand out to pull Youngjae up and promptly bundles him into the bedroom, seating him gently on the bed.

Youngjae feels a bit like one of those dogs with anxiety that always look like they're about to tremble out of their skin.

He ends up sitting in Daehyun's lap as Daehyun leans against the headboard with his chin hooked over Youngjae's shoulder. It's a good position. It makes Youngjae feel safe.

They stay like that till the doorbell rings.

\--

They get custody of Junhong, of course. Daehyun passes his blood test (Youngjae isn't surprised, but everyone around him acts like he should be) and CPS apparently doesn't think that mildew in the shower grout makes Youngjae an unfit caretaker.

Which leads them here: Daehyun and Youngjae seated on the couch making awkward eye contact with an eight-year-old. It's fine. Everything is fine.

"So..." Daehyun starts. "I'm gonna go make dinner and you guys can have a chitchat. Good? Good. Bye!" He gives Youngjae a kiss on the cheek before darting off. The kitchen is basically the same room as the living room, but it gives Youngjae and Junhong some semblance of privacy at the very least.

Youngjae is left with Junhong. He kinda figures he should probably start some sort of welcome speech, but he's not sure how to do it without coming across as patronizing or awkward as fuck. Maybe he's just destined to be awkward as fuck.

Luckily (or unluckily?) Junhong beats him to it.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh." Youngjae is momentarily thrown off. "Yes. He's my boyfriend."

Junhong's face is unreadable. Youngjae doesn't know that much about kids, but even for the circumstances Junhong seems very solemn. "Mom had a lot of boyfriends but they always went away eventually. Is he gonna go away?"

Oh, well. "No, Daehyun's pretty permanent," Youngjae says. He's not sure he'll really be able to impress _how_ permanent on Junhong. It's certainly going to be interesting to witness the transition from one female parental figure to two male ones.

Do eight-year-olds throw tantrums? Youngjae is probably going to find out.

It's interesting to see how much time Junhong spends just _thinking_. He's clearly pretty smart. After mulling over Youngjae's statement for a moment, he looks up at Youngjae and clearly decides that now he just needs to ask _all_ the questions.

"Are you gay? Is that why I never met you? Why do you have so much stuff in your ears? Do I live here forever now? You know you can't replace Mom, right?"

Youngjae almost puts his hands up to stop the onslaught but Junhong cuts himself off on his own. The last question is pushed out in a rush of words, like he's afraid if he doesn't say it that it'll be trapped forever.

"Yes, no, because I like it, you'll live here till you're eighteen and- " Youngjae pauses for a moment. "I'm not your mother. I don't want to be your mother. But I will be taking care of you to the best of my ability. So. I'll be doing basically the same thing - I guess. I don't know. I'm kinda new at this."

Junhong does that thing where he stares and thinks again. It's honestly a little creepy, but Youngjae tries not to let it get to him. 

"Why'd I never meet you then?"

Youngjae probably should have expected this question, but he's still not sure how to answer it. He decides honesty is the best policy. "I used to be a not super great person. I was in prison at one point. So. Me and your mom kinda had a falling out."

It's an abbreviated explanation but Youngjae doesn't think Junhong needs his whole life story right now.

Junhong's eyes go wide, "You went to _prison?_ " His tone is oddly reverent. "Cool."

Kids are weird. Youngjae had forgotten that.

Junhong isn't finished. "Do you have like, prison tattoos?"

Youngjae can't help but let out a snort, "No, no prison tattoos, sorry."

Junhong is obviously disappointed by this. He points at Daehyun. "He had a tattoo, is that from prison?" He pauses to think for a second. "Did he go to prison too? What should I call you? Uncle is weird. I don't know you."

Youngjae is kind of getting used to the rapid-fire questions and then silence Modus Operandi. "No, Daehyun's tattoo was not from prison. Yes, he went to prison too. You can just call me Youngjae, and you can call Daehyun by his name too. We don't mind."

Silence again. It's an odd pattern but Youngjae thinks it might be that Junhong is trying to figure out which five questions he should ask out of the many bouncing around his head. It's as good an explanation as any.

"Why did he go to prison? Did he kill someone? Did _you_ kill someone?" he seems concerned about this suddenly as if when he'd said prison was cool before it hadn't occurred to him that _murderers_ end up there.

"No one has killed anyone. I went to prison for -" Youngjae tries to figure out a way to explain money laundering to an eight year old and then decides he'd better not. "Stealing money -- kind of. If you want to know about Daehyun, you'll have to ask him." 

Junhong still looks worried. "You don't...still steal money right?"

Youngjae had really wanted to save this conversation for later, but it’s now or never right now he supposes. "No. I realized when I was in prison that what I'd been doing was wrong and that...I didn't want to do it anymore. So I didn't. It's been about five years since then, you don't need to worry."

Junhong thinks for a long time after that. Youngjae lets him. The silence isn't uncomfortable anymore now that Youngjae is expecting it. Eventually, Junhong nods. "Am I gonna sleep here? I'm hungry."

And at that, Daehyun - who'd been listening to the whole thing, obviously - apparently decides that they've been talking long enough. He lets out a series of loud clanging noises from the kitchen before announcing (slightly louder than required in their twenty foot apartment), "Dinner's ready! If you don't eat it, I will!"

Junhong immediately bounces up from the couch and Youngjae can't help but grin to himself.

They'll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on twitter [@sweetwoojinie!](https://twitter.com/sweetwoojinie)


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